


Ge bene Hinnom

by kangeiko



Category: Angel: the Series, Marvel 1602
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2007-11-27
Updated: 2007-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-05 07:59:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangeiko/pseuds/kangeiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Man-like demons stalk the New World, and the Roanoke colony falters. In response, a trade is made between the Most Secret Council and Sir Carolus Javier, and a new settler is hastily dispatched.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Selena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selena/gifts).



> This is the 1602/A:tS crossover I promised Selena years ago... still WIP, but at least I've started it!

*

**Master Carolus Javier's Select College for the Sons of Gentlefolk  
Warwick, England  
1590**

*

 

"_Omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis_." He traced the sign with gloved fingers and snorted. What foolishness. It is as they said, then; well, so much the better. He pushed the door open, and made to step through the threshold.

"It is not a password, sir. I will not grant you entrance to the College simply for proving that you can read. You must convince me of your well intentions, and your standing, and your lack of ill-will towards my master." This, then, from a man oddly grappling with an overhead beam, more ape than human. The odd man-thing fell to the ground, large and threatening and entirely ungodly in his demeanour.

The stranger was not particularly cowed. "You must be Master McCoy, the beast-man, yes? I have heard of your impressive…" he waved a hand vaguely to indicate the man-thing. "Yes. Well. Is Master Carlos at home, or must I return to the storm outside?" He shook his hands free of his gloves and pushed his hood back, revealing a gentleman's collar and accoutrements.

The man-thing, it appeared, was as unimpressed with him as he was with it. "Wait here," he said, and swung back up into the rafters.

Of course, he had no such intention. His property was still outside, and liable to wander. He went to the door, and signalled as well as he could in the dim light for his manservant to bring it in out of the rain. By the time the man-thing returned, a sleep-tired Carlos Javier in his arms, it was safely stowed in a corner where it could not take it upon itself to slither, slink or otherwise move out of sight.

"What is the meaning of this? Who are you, sir? What are you doing in my home?" For a queer sort, Javier was as befuddled as any man raised from sleep mid-night, it appeared.

The stranger gestured to the corner, where his property wriggled on the ground with ill-formed squelching noises. "I have come to make a delivery to you, sir." He pulled a sealed note from his pocket and offered it, careful to not step too close to the hostile man-thing. One never knew when a beast such as that might become hungry.

Javier read the note over, his eyes widening in alarm. Honestly, was the man touched in the head, perhaps? Whatever was the matter? "Is there something amiss, sir," he enquired. "Were you not aware of this arrangement?"

The queer man stared at him for a long moment. "No," he said slowly. "No, I was not. Master McCoy -" this, to the man-thing, "would you be so good as to set me down in my chair and tend to - to our guests?"

"Guests?" The man-thing said, but his gaze had already wandered to the corner, where the bundle was wriggling with even greater ferocity. Honestly, you would think that they had not been beaten into docility on the journey! "Good heavens! Sir, you cannot mean to suggest that - are those _children_?!" He hurriedly placed Javier into a chair and loped to the corner, to undo the bundle's bindings.

"Of a sort," the stranger said. "I expect that they will be satisfactory?"

"Satisfactory?!" The man-thing repeated, low and dangerous, almost snarling. "You sell _children_, sir, and expect us to accommodate you?"

"Indeed I do," the stranger said, mildly surprised at this turn of events. "Do you mean to say that you do not wish to purchase them from me?" Here he turned his attention back to Javier, who had really gone a terrible shade of pale. That would never do; he could hardly have the man dropping dead on him before the bargain was sealed! "Sir, are you unwell? Is the merchandise deficient in some way? Should I fetch water?"

"I am quite well, thank you," Javier said. He pressed a hand to his lips. "Master McCoy, please see to our new… guests." The man-thing had liberated the devil-spawn by this point, and was checking their bound eyes and misshapen heads for lumps.

"Do not remove their blindfolds, Master McCoy," the stranger said sharply, when the man-thing's hands strayed dangerously near to the scrap of fabric. "One of them is afflicted with devil-eyes; they would burn you through with the heat of a thousand suns. The blindfold is _necessary_."

"And the brand?" The man-thing asked, quietly. His fingers traced the cross burned into the flesh of the nearest boy. "Was that necessary, also?"

"That was not my doing, sir," the stranger said, greatly affronted. "The injuries were from the mob I took them from; they would have drowned them. I ascertained their health, their names and their -" his voice shook "-_humanity_. They are neither eunuchs nor blind, and will do well for work - or for study, if that is your intention."

"Their names, sir?"

"Scotius Summerisle and Robert Trefusis, if you will. No remaining living relatives, no one to raise a fuss."

"How kind of you," Javier said, voice thick with something akin to malice.

The stranger stiffened even more at this latest affront. "As I found them, _sir_," he bit out. "As my agreement with our mutual acquaintance stands, I believe that the delivery of two healthy _boys_ -" he could hardly bring himself to say the word -"is sufficient for a letter of dispensation regarding my recent need of a _girl_ child?"

The man-thing blinked up at him from his task of unbinding the wriggling mess of skinny limbs. "Sir, what does he -"

"Take the boys to some rooms, please," Javier interrupted sharply. His expression had hardened considerably. The man-thing glared, but said nought else. He gathered the wriggling, mewing brats in his large arms and took them inside - to nurse or to spit, the stranger cared little at this juncture. He had journeyed far, and in the company of dangerous creatures indeed, to come here and be insulted to his face. No, indeed, all that concerned him was his payment.

"My letter," he prompted.

"Yes," Javier murmured, and tapped his teeth with a fingernail. "Yes, I see why you would need the girl."

The stranger could see no such thing, being as how he had not disclosed any details in person nor by letter. "She is necessary," he said instead, somewhat tightly. His hand reached for the hilt of his sword.

"That will not be necessary, sir," Javier said mildly. "And - you understand that she is human," this said with an odd expression on his face, "not to be treated as you have treated these boys?"

"I am aware that she is Blessed and _not_ Witchbreed, as the creatures I brought you, yes -_will you sign or no?_" His hand did not stray from his belt, reassuringly near the sword-hilt. The stranger had decided that he did not like Master Carolus, not one whit. There is something unnatural in a man who would take in boys as afflicted as the ones he had brought him, and as the man-thing still hanging from some rafters inside the kitchens. For what purpose would this man concern himself with such works of the devil? He could not be afflicted so himself; the stranger was certain that he would not be held in such high esteem by the Council otherwise. It would be unthinkable.

Javier smiled, and the stranger was not comforted by it. "I have taken your merchandise - have I not? - of course." He signed, carefully and with considerable venom:

_To whom it may concerne -_

_On this daye of our Lorde, the fifteenth of the sixth monthe, 1590._

_Praye be advised that Carolus Javier, Master of the Select College for the Sons of Gentlefolk, has taken delivery of two male specimens, on behalfe of the Most Secret Council. This satisfies the debte owed, and all monies and reparations are now due to the bearer of this note of payment. _

_Sir Carolus Javier_

The stranger took the note and scanned it. "It is brief," he said, disapproving.

"It will serve," Javier replied, his manner abruptly short and dismissive, as if he were dealing with a mere nuisance. The stranger was gravely affronted. "Now, sir, I have fulfilled my end of the bargain, and all debts due to me by the gentlefolk at the Council are hereby due to you in my place. Our business thus concluded, would you be so kind as to leave my land and never show your accursed face here again?"

"Ah. Of course. 'Tis acceptable to be thus when one has concluded business to one's infinite profit, is it not? Then I shall take my leave of you, sir," and he bowed deeply, his cape sweeping the floor in the motion. "I would have you remember me thus: the deal was for _one_ life, Sir Carolus, as I buy but one with it. I did not drown the spare. I fed it, and watered it, and brought it here."

"I'm sure 'its' parents are infinitely grateful," Javier said, his face suffusing with anger.

"Its parents, _sir_, are the ones that gave it to the mob in the first place."

He could feel Javier's eyes dig into his back upon his departure. Blasted man. There was something mighty peculiar about him and his whole brood of supposed gentlefolk's sons. A pox on the place; he had what he needed.

He tucked the note into a pocket, and got back in the coach. They would have to make haste to reach London before sunrise.

*

**London, England**

*

"You cannot be seen, sir," the servant girl wrung her hands. "My master is indisposed. Sir! You cannot enter!"

He pushed her aside and opened the door, ducking under the low Tudor ceiling. Blasted old houses; it was not as if the Councilmen did not have the money to spare! "Master Lucas! A word with you, if I - good _Lord_!"

Master Lucas misstepped and would have fallen heavily, had not the girl he had been sparring with darted forward and caught him. "Sir Arthur! Good heavens, I did not expect to see you here! Elizabeth - Elizabeth, child, dress yourself!" The girl hastily curtseyed and ran off, presumably to change out of her scandalous man's clothing and into a becoming dress. Daniel Lucas wiped at his brow with the cloth that the servant girl proffered and huffed his breath back. "You must excuse her, sir, she is Blessed and in training."

Ah. "That is certainly an agreeable state," Sir Arthur allowed. "I apologise for intruding upon your training in such an abrupt manner, but I am in something of a hurry."

"Ah, yes. Sit - sit. Mary, be a good girl and fetch some wine and bread for our visitor. Jump to it, girl, you act as if you've never seen a highborn man before! - you must excuse her," he said apologetically, folding his creaking joints gracelessly into a chair pushed to the side of the room, "she is still new."

"Of course." Sir Arthur tugged a chair around so that he could sit comfortably facing the old man. It was growing damnably late, and he had been riding all the night before. He did not like this area; as a matter of fact, he disliked the City of London in general, and would have much rather conduct this interview in his estate. The damnable Councilman, however, would not leave the safety of crowded spaces, and would insist on treating him as an equal, to boot. An equal! Imagine it. "Allow me to come to the heart of the matter, Master Lucas. I have a missive for you from Master Carolus Javier."

"Oh?" Daniel raised an eyebrow and drew deeply from the flagon of wine his serving-girl offered him. "And how is my old friend, Carlos?"

"Well enough, when I saw him last." Sir Arthur accepted a goblet of wine and sipped at it. He tugged at his right boot, and eventually took from it a piece of parchment much the worse for wear.

"Were you waylaid by bandits, Sir Arthur?" Daniel asked, smiling, as he accepted the letter. "It is all terribly exciting."

"Yes," Sir Arthur drawled. "Yes, we had some trouble with the East India Trading Company."

Daniel glanced up at him in alarm and huffed from the flagon of wine. "Good Lord! They have not followed you here, I hope?"

"No, that problem has been taken care of. I would not jeopardise your girls, Master Lucas, you can depend on it."

"I suppose I must, it would appear." With another affronted huff, Daniel skimmed over the epistle. He traced the seal and, when he could find no lack, he crumpled it back into a folded mess and tucked it away about his person. "I see that I am now indebted to you, Sir Arthur. Have you come here merely to inform me of this, or to exact payment?"

Sir Arthur sipped at his wine again, thoughtfully, before finally answering. "The latter. I have urgent business that required this transfer of obligation, and I am eager to recoup my investment. I believe I have met the going rate, and perhaps more? - two Witchbreed boys, in exchange for one Blessed girl."

"Ah," Daniel said, nodding.

The serving-girl returned, this time with bread and cold meats, and hurriedly restored the room to some semblance of order. It would be their sitting room, Sir Arthur saw at last - fit for perhaps a dozen people, snug and cosy - perhaps one or two more, if they were of a lower status and would stand. When all the furniture was pushed to the edges of the room, there was space enough for fencing and the other manly arts, to be sure, but he still could not understand why Daniel insisted on remaining in the City when there was plenty of space to be had in the Home Counties. An estate could be entirely devoted to this training - although, perhaps that was the essence of the problem itself. An estate full of young girls and a few old men could scarce help but draw attention from the wrong quarters. It would be much easier to remain unnoticed for one such old man, and a serving-girl or three. And if the girls should be a touch peculiar - well, who was not, in the City?

"And might one inquire as to the purpose of this exchange, Sir Arthur? It is no mean thing, to part with a Blessed girl."

It was impudent, to be sure, but Sir Arthur could see the Councilman's point - the child was a precious commodity, and he would not part with her if she were to simply satisfy a perversion or expediency. It was a noble thought; Sir Arthur could respect it. "I have been approached by Sir Walter Raleigh," he said at last. "His venture in the new Roanoke colony is not yet sunk, and he has hopes for it still. Yet in the last year there have been - rumours, one might say - of troubles plaguing the settlers."

"Yes," Daniel mused, "yes, I have heard these tales. Massacres, and the like."

"Indeed. They thought it was barbarians, at first, and the colonists retreated. But the last ships to reach Roanoke with fresh colonists were expecting to find fifteen men camped there, keeping the fires burning, as it were. Instead, the fires were out, and the men were gone. Or, that is what they thought, until they found them, barricaded in a cellar, the bones picked clean."

"Good heavens!" Daniel plucked a kerchief from his person and pressed it to his mouth. "Clean, you say. Then, it must have been wild creatures eating the flesh."

"Yes, that was the first thought. Later study, however, revealed that the journals kept by the men spoke of creatures walking the night; unnatural, man-like creatures, with faces who changed. One in particular was spoken of, who came from the South - they believed it to not be native to the New World, but to have been brought across by the Spanish to St Augustine. They called that one the Master, and feared it greatly. The discovery of these writings caused great panic and outcry amongst the new settlers, you can be certain. They hastily erected a church, and have been sleeping within its confines, taking turns to guard the doors each night. They have sent word to England, asking for assistance."

"And what do you propose to do, Sir Arthur?"

"They have not been attacked as yet. It is possible that this Master and his unnatural followers have passed the Roanoke, and travelled up the Chesapeake, to sample the blood of the savages there. It is possible that the threat has passed."

"Yes," Daniel said, smiling a little. "It is _possible_."

Sir Arthur looked at him sharply. "It is, however, unlikely. I have promised Sir Walter a form of insurance for the colony."

"Insurance," Daniel repeated, and the colour drained from his face. "Sir, I believe that there has been some misunderstanding here. Surely you do not mean one of the _girls_ -"

"But I do, Master Lucas. I will invest in such a girl, to protect the investment I have already made."

The Councilman coughed into his kerchief. "Sir Arthur, there is no possible way - that is, it is not feasible for such a girl -"

"They come into their own at their tides, yes?" Sir Arthur interrupted.

Daniel wrung his hands. "It varies from girl to girl. Most do, but some do not; some have come into their own well into their childbearing years. A few have been Chosen when scarcely eight summers have passed."

"As I thought," Sir Arthur said with satisfaction. "That is why I chose _you_, Master Lucas. You have possession of the youngest girl in Council custody, do you not? There will be the greatest time for her to come into her own; perhaps even before the voyage commences."

The Councilman crossed himself. "Do not speak so, Sir Arthur; to wish the current Slayer harm is unholy in the extreme!"

With some impatience, Sir Arthur waved a hand as if to dismiss his earlier words. "Forgive me. I spoke without thinking. But it is true, is it not? There are legions of these girls running about England, yet yours is the youngest in the Council's possession. Yours has the greatest chance of being Chosen before she is too old."

"I -" Daniel said, and paled a little. "I -" He pressed his kerchief back to his face, as if collecting himself. "I cannot," he said at last; a pitiful, mewling sound. "Sir, do not ask it of me. It is an obscene suggestion to trade such precious girls, as if they are mere commodities."

"She _is_ a commodity, Master Lucas," Sir Arthur said. "I have purchased her life for two Witchbreed boys. She is mine."

"She is _not_!" Daniel exclaimed, and gained a hold of himself with some visible effort. He swallowed, and tried a different tack. "Sir, I beg you, have mercy. I cannot part with her. She - she is my livelihood!"

"She is no such thing," Sir Arthur replied sharply. "The Council will continue to pay you an allowance for her upkeep, and for your other girls, too. You will not go hungry for the loss of a Councilman's pittance, Master Lucas," this, with considerable scorn. The Councilman was a truly odious creature! "And would you really rather have me as your enemy in such a dishonourable manner?" His hand rested, quite comfortably, near his sword hilt. It was more of a symbolic gesture than a true one; for he could no more attack a Councilman in his own home than he could assault one of the girls in the Council headquarters itself. Yet it served a purpose: whatever the Council said to curious parties, the girls could be nothing other than Witchbreed. If it served them to name them Blessed by provenance, that was all to the good of the Church, but Sir Arthur was not well fond of such papist imaginings. England was, after all, a Protestant, pragmatic country that did not suffer such abominations lightly. The Council, despite its wealth, existed on sufferance.

Daniel stared at him, his face an unhealthy, pallid hue. He was silent for a very long time. "Mary," he whispered at last, "bring Lucille to me, there's a good girl."

The serving girl curtseyed and scurried out.

Sir Arthur regarded his gloves with some interest for a few minutes.

Finally, as if she could delay no longer, the serving girl returned, pulling a small girl-child with her. The scrawny little thing stared up at him with wide, fearful eyes.

"If it please you, sir," Mary offered in a halting voice, "her name is Lucille. She is of French origin, and has but three summers."

"That will be sufficient. Girl, attend me." The girl did not move, only shrank more behind Mary's skirts. With some effort, he remembered that she was human, and he was to be gentle, yet. "Do not be afraid, little one," he said with some softness in his voice. "You are going to be a great warrior, like Joan d'Arc, yes?"

The girl stared at him, uncomprehending.

He reached out and grabbed hold of her chin with some difficulty; the damnable child was already wriggling. He turned her so he could peer into her face. "Is she sound?" He demanded after a moment. "I will not have her be touched in the head after the trouble I have gone to in order to secure her!"

"She is _frightened,_" the serving-girl exclaimed, then clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, forgive me, sir -"

"No, no' tis all right. Explain to her that she will not be harmed. Explain that she will be fed, and cared for, and trained - just like she would have been cared for here." He hesitated. "Explain, also, that she will be going on a voyage of some duration."

He left the maid murmuring in French and turned back to the wretched Councilman. "I will take her in the morning," he said dispassionately. "Have her ready to journey to my estate."

*

end part I


	2. Ge bene Hinnom

*****

**HMS _Britannia_, the Atlantic Ocean**

** **

** _*  
_ **

They set sail from Portsmouth aboard the HMS _Britannia _at the first fair wind. Sir Arthur determined that it would be prudent to ensure the girl's safety by accompanying her on the voyage himself: while he trusted his manservant with his life, Warrick's status was woefully low should an officer take a liking to the girl and attempt to claim her for his own. Sir Arthur was a sensible man, and he would not risk his investment's safety at the final hurdle. No: he would bring the girl to the Roanoke settlement himself, and see her firmly settled with an appropriate protector before departing. After careful consideration, he took only Warrick and the girl along. There was some thought to perhaps bringing some extra soldiers, but this seemed excessive and foolish. The _Britannia_ had plenty of armed crewmen on board, and they would simply have to do.

The first leg of the voyage was uneventful, almost charmingly so. The winds were fair, and sped them on their journey, keeping the deckhands busy and out of Sir Arthur's hair. He took to reading in his cabin, or strolling on the deck, watching the horizon and thinking on what they were likely to find at the end of their voyage. A thriving settlement, hopefully; a deserted few ruins and some bones, perhaps. Likely as now, it would be something 'twixt the two, and this he could deal with.

It was as they were passing the halfway point that disaster struck. He was taking a promenade along the deck, talking amiably with Johnson, the first mate - the captain was frequently indisposed - when the ship's boy came running up to him breathlessly, beseeching him to come below decks, for his young charge had fallen ill.

Ill! This grave possibility was not something that had previously occurred to Sir Arthur. He hurried to Warrick's cabin, where Lucille was settled, the ship's physick sharp on his heels.

"What manner of devilry is this!" The cabin was in disarray; the girl bundled in blankets and bedlinens, only a mop of blonde hair visible from the top.

Warrick looked ashen. "She is fevered to the touch, sir, and cannot keep anything down. I thought that I'd best -"

"You did good, lad," the physick interrupted. He pressed a hand to the girl's forehead - where he found it amidst the bedding Sir Arthur was not sure - and frowned. "Aye, she is with an ague. Likely as not, she is not used to ship's rations, and has caught a chill from the sea wind from her weakness. A ship is no place for a wee one," he informed Sir Arthur with some spirit, as if it was Sir Arthur's fault that the dratted thing was sickly!

"Will she live?" Sir Arthur demanded. Warrick paled even further.

The physick prodded the invisible flesh some more, eliciting a squeak of protest from the girl. He smiled at this; evidently showing some spirit was a good sign. "She's a strong 'un, yes. I gather she wasn't ailing ashore?"

"No, sir," Warrick supplied, "she was exceeding healthy."

"Ah." The physick hum-med and ah-ed for a while yet, while Sir Arthur shifted anxiously from foot to foot, and the girl's squeaks grew ever sharper. At the last, she emerged, pink-faced, from beneath the bedding.

"Don't poke me!"

The physick laughed. "She will be fine, Sir Arthur, don't fret. All she needs is some good strong broth, and she will regain her feet." He stood, and patted Lucille on the head. She scowled up at him. "Oh - and you may think to feed her some lemons, sir," he added as an afterthought. "I understand there are some preserved on board. They are not normally needed for sailors, them being used to such a life, but for a growing child, it would be a good thing." He bowed and left.

Sir Arthur rounded on Warrick, who was anxiously trying to bundle Lucille back into her blankets. Sweating a fever out was all well and good, but was the boy perhaps deficient in some way to not pay attention to obvious instructions? "Don't just stand there, Warrick, you malcontent! Get the girl some lemon!"

*

It turned out that getting preserved lemon into a girl who really did not wish to eat any was something of a challenge. Warrick bore it admirably, however, and Sir Arthur only heard of the difficulty from the first mate, who found the sight of a grown man struggling with a wee girl's tantrum somewhat amusing. Still, it did the trick, and Lucille got better, bit by bit.

Sir Arthur was relieved. He did not care for the child personally - she was, after all, not his own issue, and no link was required between them - but it would have been a disaster if she had perished on the journey. He was yet more glad that he had decided to come on board the _Britannia_, as goodness only knew what sort of mischief might have happened had he not been around.

They were nearly at their destination, however, and Lucille prospered. Still unsteady on her feet, she was able to accompany Warrick on promenades along the deck, oblivious to the anxious looks the sailors cast her way. Sir Arthur trusted that this was due to Lucille's age, rather than her sex; he would not be amused to find such foolish superstitions aboard one of Her Majesty's ships.

Well, they would be rid of her soon, with any luck. He did not look forward to a similar return voyage should the colony prove deserted. No; he was quite anxious to settle the girl and be gone, his part in this fulfilled. Before him, the horizon stretched out endlessly across the sea, promising nothing but more clouds and waves and seawater washed across the deck. Would they never reach land? He was beginning to despair of it.

*

Sir Arthur was reading when the knock on the cabin door came. He carefully closed the book and stowed it to one side. The cabin was small, but neat and compact, and provided that he took care of his belongings when the steward or the ship's boy were unavailable, it was a pleasant enough space. At any rate, it had served for the many months of the outbound voyage, and it would hopefully continue to do so when they eventually ventured back to England's green hills. "Yes?"

His manservant entered timidly, holding the squirming girl firmly by the hand: after Lucille's sickness, Sir Arthur had given strict instructions that she was not to be left unattended for even a minute, lest she be overcome by the vapours or some such and find herself overboard. Warrick had taken these words to heart, not in the least bit eager to find his life forfeit for want of a little attention over so manageable a young charge. "The first mate informs me that we have sighted land, Sir Arthur."

"The_ correct_ land, I trust? I wager that we are in no shape to sport with the Spanish."

Warrick gave him the thinnest of smiles. By Jove, the boy had been in a wretched mood this voyage! "No sir. It is the correct land. By all accounts, we have found the very spot of the Roanoke colony, not an hour's journey away from here. We will begin disembarking later on in the day, and - the Captain's regards, and will you be disembarking with the first group?"

And will the girl accompany you, was his unspoken question. Now _there_ was a genuine conundrum. On the one hand, Sir Arthur was eager to finally deliver the wretched child to her new caregivers, and see to it that she was safely installed in a strongly protected home on the colony. It would thus be expedient to bring the girl along when they disembarked. On the other hand, prudence dictated that he should ensure that the area was indeed secure before risking the hide of his valuable charge. There was no sense in sending the girl to land if the land itself had been compromised! "I will go ashore alone. You will remain here with the girl," he decided at last. "Keep her out of sight and well-fed. I will send for you if I judge it appropriate."

"Yessir," Warrick said, and took that as his dismissal. He exited without further ado, taking the silent - yet still squirming - Lucille with him, presumably to ensure that she was safely stowed away below-deck.

Sir Arthur took the opportunity to pack a few key essentials for his short trip ashore. In truth, he did not anticipate any problems, as doubtless the first mate would have noticed plumes of smoke or similar signs of destruction rising from the encampment, which indicated that it would be safe to approach, at least for the time being. That said, it would probably be a sound idea to be prepared for the worst. He thought on it some more, and then tucked his never-used pistol into his waistband, beside his sword. The gentlefolk ashore could not be a match to his skill as a swordsman, no doubt, yet wild beasts would be best dealt with swiftly and decisively - and from as far away as possible.

God have mercy, he'd be glad to be back on English soil again, and able to lock away this odious contraption! In truth, it made him feel almost lawless, to walk about armed with such a barbaric weapon. No better than a common brigand, really, and _that_ was an unpalatable thought. He banished it swiftly: what could not be helped must be endured 'til it passed.

After a time, there came a second knock on the door, and a man's gruff voice, "Sir Arthur! Are you prepared?"

He opened the door to the first mate and regarded the man thoughtfully. "I believe so, Master Johnson." He gestured towards his dress, and towards the small bag lying on his bunk. "I trust that these will be sufficient?"

The first mate laughed. "Aye, sir. Shall we to land, then?"

And so they did, and the less said of it, the better. The seas had been deceptively mild during their voyage, with a favoured wind to bring them to the New World in such a swift manner. Closer to shore, however, the waves were taller than Sir Arthur had expected, and the winds whipped at them all, 'til he was forced to clutch the side of the longboat for balance.

"Not long now, sir," Johnson said reassuringly.

Sir Arthur glared at him balefully, but did not answer. Johnson was a good man - solid and dependable, and not itching to rise above his station, like some ships' officers - and he did not wish to alienate him, given their long voyage home.

They landed on a relatively rocky beach; too rocky a beach to moor a boat upon, Sir Arthur would have thought, but he was no judge of such matters. Two able seamen leapt from the boat as they approached the shore and moored it 'twixt some likely boulders, keeping the longboat sheltered from casual glances. "We do not wish to be spotted by any hostiles," Johnson explained, and gestured towards another two of their party to scout ahead.

"Now what?"

"Now we wait, until they make contact with the colony." Johnson seemed pensive, and Sir Arthur knew that he himself must have been wearing a similar expression. The previous attempt at setting down roots in this colony had resulted in a dispirited group demanding to return home, and fifteen loyal soldiers holed up in a cellar, their bones picked clean. Goodness only knew what the two scouts might find - rumours indicated that the demons, whatever they might have been, had moved on from these parts, but supposing they had returned? Supposing they were waiting to see what meal or titbit England would send them in the form of carpenters and churchmen? He was suddenly glad that he'd kept the child aboard. Wretched and abnormal she might be, but he had no wish to answer for her being gobbled up by some foreign monster. If the colony was gone, well, he had done his duty in securing the girl and bringing her this far. It could not be helped.

After such thoughts, he felt that he could be forgiven for being so thoroughly startled when the two seamen returned: unharmed, and escorted by three colonists, properly attired and not the least bit devoured.

"We found the settlement, sir," one of the men said unnecessarily, and gestured the newcomers towards Johnson.

"You must be Master Johnson," one of the newcomers said, and bowed slightly in greeting. "I am Ananias Dare. I am in charge of this settlement." He was a handsome man; though dark from the sun, he was able-bodied and well-favoured in looks. His clothes, though several years out of the current fashion, were still in good repair, and he, too, carried a sword at his side: a gentleman.

"Delighted to make your acquaintance, sir," Johnson said perfunctorily, and bowed towards Master Dare, turning mid-bow to gesture in Sir Arthur's direction. "May I present Sir Arthur Allen, Sir Walter Raleigh's representative."

"Sir Arthur, a pleasure," Master Dare bowed to him in turn, and gestured back towards the inland; presumably towards the settlement. "Might we begin the walk back whilst we converse? The sun will be high, soon, and will make the walk difficult." At the party's nods of acquiescence, they set off at a gentle pace, mindful of allowing the two dignitaries time and adequate space to interact before their official arrival at the camp.

"You appear to be in good health, sir," Sir Arthur said by way of greeting. "I trust that the country air agrees with you?"

"Indeed, yes. I find that it fills the mind and body with good humour to be doing my Queen's work in this land, and in such challenging surroundings."

In other words, Sir Arthur understood, it had been a difficult year, but they had survived, and there was no more to be said of it. "And your family is keeping well, I hope? The girl prospers?" Oddly, he _was_ vaguely interested in the child. The birth of Virginia Dare, the first child of the colonies, had been greeted with delight back in court, and he looked forward to seeing her for himself. Thinking on it, she was of the same age as the Blessed girl - was she not? - and perhaps this was an opportunity to be taken. It would do them both good to be made friends, perhaps, and thus offer protection to one while she was helpless, and protection for the other in all times after.

He was so busy thinking on this sudden and marvellous accidental thought that he almost missed the tightening of Master Dare's face. "The girl lives, Sir Arthur, but that is all that can be said for her." He sighed. "In truth, it has been... a difficult year."

Oh. "Indeed," Sir Arthur said, and kept his counsel to himself for the duration of the walk. He would see for himself the state of the Dare household soon enough.

*

**The Roanoke colony**

*

It was an odd community, to be sure. Perhaps slightly larger than a hamlet, yet still decidedly rustic in character, in that the air smelled relatively fresh, instead of being loaded with the stench of gathered human life. "We put the waste outside of the community boundaries," Dare was saying. "It keeps the air smelling sweet, and it helps keeps a great number of the larger predators away."

Sir Arthur regarded the exposed houses doubtfully. "Do you have such a large number of predators?" He asked. "It was my understanding that the demons who preyed on the former outpost were the major threat."

Dare sighed. "And so it was when we first arrived, 'til a few months later, a little after the first dwellings were completed, when a bright light was observed in the far-away hills. A few of the men wanted to investigate; being forbidden from doing so, they disobeyed and left in the dead of night, and were not heard from again."

"Demons?" Sir Arthur hazarded. They had reached the door of a dwelling marginally larger than the rest; Sir Arthur took it to be Dare's residence.

"Please, do come inside - I do not know, in truth. All that was left in their place was an increase in the oddness of the creatures who approached our encampment."

"How so?" He was waved inside the main reception room, where a bondswoman was waiting with a ready flagon of the local brew. "Thank you, no; I'll take water."

Dare smiled tightly as he seated his guest and himself. "Thunder lizards, Sir Arthur! Creatures not mentioned in the Bible nor any civilised text! As if from the depths of Gehenna they came, and trampled our crops, and attacked our people. We would surely have perished that first winter, had we not made contact with the local Indian tribe."

This was an oddity. By all accounts, the previous settlement had not made contact with any of the local savages. How had this one managed it, in such a short space of time? "Indeed," was what he said instead, and took the flagon of water from the bondswoman with a curt nod. "How did they assist you?"

Dare waved a hand towards the open window, from whence the sight of bundles of tightly-bound hay was evident. "They brought us gifts of food during the winter and the Starving Time, 'til we could plant our own crops again. Moreover, they showed us how to protect the crops from the marauding creatures who would damage them. It is a curious thing, Sir Arthur," here he frowned thoughtfully, "but they say that they had also not encountered the thunder lizards before. The wildcats, the bears and the man-like demons - yes, these they knew of, and gave us many herbs to protect the camp. The thunder lizards?" He sighed. "The thunder lizards are new, and worrisome to them."

Sir Arthur sat in silence for a time, thinking. This was not good news; not in the least. That the colony had made peaceful contact with the local savages was fortuitous, yes, yet that it should have done so in such circumstances was not to be borne. They were not forging an alliance out of choice; they had been pressed into it by circumstances and a worsening in their surroundings. The previous colony had disbanded after but a twoyear; this one had lasted barely that long. Was this recounting of their woes a precursor to a demand for sanctuary, and return voyage? If so, all of Sir Walter's dreams were as ashes, and their investment in this place was thrown to the wind. Moreover, the months spent coddling the Blessed child, and the trouble of purchasing her to boot, had been expensive. Would Sir Walter recoup the costs incurred? It was unlikely. They would all end up out of pocket, and the East India Trading Company would be free to take over the entirety of the New World, and exploit it to their fullest extent.

And yet... if this New World was as accursed as it was proving to be, perhaps it was for the best to let them have the damned enterprise, and watch them burn their own fingers upon it.

"Am I to take it that you believe this colony is not viable any longer, Master Dare?" He inquired at last.

Dare, to his credit, looked offended at the very thought, though there was something... something Sir Arthur could not quite put his finger on. "Certainly not, sir! I have not given my family's blood to simply walk away now!"

What an odd thing to say, Sir Arthur thought. "I beg your pardon."

The bondswoman was back. "Master Dare, sir," she said timidly. "Lady Virginia is asking for you."

Dare nodded in response. "Thank you, Anna. I shall be to see her directly."

She bobbed a curtsey and left.

Dare slanted Sir Arthur a look. "Would you like to meet the first child of the colonies, Sir Arthur?"

Yes. He would.

*

This was not what he had expected. The girl was indeed Lucille's age, but instead of possessing Lucille's clear pale skin and sparkling eyes, she was clearly ailing. Her blonde hair was as straw about her face, and her cheeks were hollow. Sir Arthur would not credit Master Dare as the sort of man to starve his only child - and the first child of the colonies, no less - and thus took this, too, as further evidence of the girl's ailing health.

Dare knelt by her side and whispered platitudes in her ear, tucking her lank hair behind her ears. After a time, he gestured for Sir Arthur to step closer.

He did so, bringing his kerchief to his face to ward off any foul air that might bring the illness across. "I am Sir Arthur Allen, sent on behalf of Sir Walter Raleigh, and the Queen's directive. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mistress Dare."

The girl smiled faintly. "Yes, sir." And, just like that, her eyes closed.

Sir Arthur looked at Master Dare in alarm. "Is she -"

"Merely asleep. She is tired." He gestured towards the door, and they left quietly. Master Dare closed the door with a soft 'click'. "She is always tired."

"Her mother must be anxious," Sir Arthur said, at a loss as to what condolences to offer for a child clearly dying though not yet perished.

Dare didn't look at him. "Her mother passed away but a month ago, from the same ailment. Virginia has been bed-ridden for close to four months; the physicks say that she will follow her mother in perhaps a week; maybe two. "

Sir Arthur said nothing. It would be inappropriate, after all, to express too much of an interest in another man's troubles. Still, he thought, here was an opportunity; a fortuitous happening indeed...

   
*

end part ii

**Author's Note:**

> The title, Ge bene Hinnom, is actually the original name for Gehenna, where children were sacrificed by their idolatrous parents.


End file.
